Between the spaces who’s delimit our diary movements like our houses, thoughs follows souvenirs like the same pictures
That we hang up to the withe walls.
A cuestion with out voice, made from a child look, took me to this strange bittersweet sensation where inside the same
Interrogative, live and lodge the double identity essence burn front at one beautiful blink : the complexity and the simple.
I was with a couple of my friend ( Michele and Hector ) to the edge of little Ibiza square, sitting up to a wall of stones of
A school. We waiting as many others guys post disco night, to know where will happen the classic “ after “.
Was 8,30 h in the morning. My off-human limits where good camouflaged among that mess, but for one second I cross
The look of one child who was walking through the first class, and it seems asking “ from which tribe do you come from ? “
That look still bounce brought my walls of my memories…………..in the background sound we listen Diibiza of D. Tenaglia.
In a short wile we where back home.
S. Meriggioli